Bigfoot and the Wood Nymph

"Yes," she said simply. And then, as I banked the fire for the night, she went about twenty paces from the camp, squatted, and peed on the ground. "Are you going to pee, too?" she asked.

"Gretchen, until I get soft again, I won't be able to pee at all!"

"Well, let's get that taken care of." So we went inside, blew out the lights, and slipped into the sleeping bag together. This time, our lovemaking was a little slower and more dance-like, but not much. She was so wet that I slid in without trouble. We ground our crotch hairs into each other as I strained to enter her fully. We growled like animals as I thrusted in and out, and took her tits into my hand and pulled and twisted the nipples as I'd watched her do earlier. She responded with another shriek and a convulsive clench of her cunt, and moved her hands onto her pussy. One push of her finger against her clit was all it took to send her to a titanic climax, and me with it. My legs tensed as my orgasm coursed through my body, a golden sensation as I felt my cock pump its load into her. Our gasps were simultaneous. Her body shuddered with the force of her own climax, and she trembled in my arms for a long while as my own body untensioned in relief. Then she began to cry. I asked her what was wrong. "Nothing," she said. "Everything is right. For the first time in my life, everything is exactly right." And that's when I started to cry, too, the tears streaming down my face onto hers. I licked them off. Then we slept.

When I awoke, it was to the sound of morning birdsong and to the feel of her hand, squeezing my cock into hardness. I protested that I really had to pee, so she relented and let me go. I made short work of it, since the morning was chilly, and was back inside the sleeping bag within five minutes. She was already masturbating herself to a high degree of arousal, and I slipped my cock into her while it was still half hard, letting it grow to full erection inside her. Now we moved like dancers, teasing each other to climax, letting our newfound familiarity guide us. We must have said "I love you" to each other a hundred times, and meant it every time. We climaxed again, and then we got up to pee, this time together. We watered the same spot of ground, letting our piss mingle as we stared into each other's eyes. We were like animals marking territory, except that this time we were proclaiming the territory to be not mine or hers but ours. Then we kissed again, but soon our hunger got the best of us and I made some coffee and cooked some oatmeal over my little camp stove. I spent the rest of the day with her. And every day since then.

We still call each other "Bigfoot" and "Wood Nymph" (or "Nymph" for short). She was right about the worth of her pictures; the fee she got for that fawn series was enough to pay for that piece of property where her Winnebago was parked. We built a proper cabin there, with a fireplace, an inside bath and shower, and a real kitchen. And a nursery, where our twin boy and girl sleep. On sunny days, she breast-feeds them on the large sunny deck we added to the cabin shortly after they were born. The babies have diapers, but we are nude, and I fondle her slit as the babies suck milk from her. Everything is exactly right, exactly as it should be. We are as completely in tune with each other, and with our surroundings, as any two people can be. We talk about the day when our kids will be toddlers, and we can take them into the secret tracks of the woods, all four of us naked as jaybirds, and peeing wherever we feel like peeing, like any creature of the forest.

Over the fireplace hangs the picture of the fawn we saw on that first day we mated. And over the bed in our bedroom is the picture of me by the lake, my cum spurting from my cock. It will never be shown at an exhibition, she says. But she tells me that, of the thousands of pictures she's taken, it's the one she treasures most.